


Bringing Up Stevie

by dottieapple



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Baby Steve Rogers, De-Aged Steve Rogers, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, IndulgeYoSelf2k19, M/M, Natasha Romanov is a Super Auntie, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson is a Good Uncle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-04-24 21:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19181290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottieapple/pseuds/dottieapple
Summary: Based loosely off of some micro-bits of Avengers: Endgame, Steve Rogers came back from the past a little too old. Bruce and Scott work to put the van/quantum realm portal machine back into action in an attempt to shave a few years off Steve at his request. But of course, this isn't going to go according to plan, and now the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan is...very different.





	1. Bucky, We Shrunk the Cap

**Author's Note:**

> Indulge Yourself 2k19! I wanted to write something soft, cute, and fun after putting a lot of emotions into my CapRBB fic, and then Sebastian Stan posed with a tiny blonde boy in a Captain America cosplay. I got a case of Baby Steve fever, and the only cure was to write the fic you wish to see in the world.

“Three, two, one!” Bruce counts back, more excited than scientific. Just like that, Steve is sucked into the brightly lit cube in the back of Scott’s van. 

“Can’t be good for an old man’s back,” Scott observes, shaking his head. 

“He mostly  _ looks _ old,” Bucky says. “He’s still good and serum’d up.” 

“So you’re saying Steve was taking advantage of all those scouts who were offering to help him cross the street when we went down to Times Square last week?” Scott grins, mischievous.    
  
“Advantage?” Sam pipes up. “Dude was making sure they were as polite as they’ve been taught to be. No kid wants to be shamed by Old Captain America  _ and _ New Captain America for not helping senior citizens.” His smile is big, showing off the gap in his front teeth. “Also yours truly might’ve won $30 off the entire operation.”    
  
The three men shake their heads as the large green scientist pulls another lever. “Bringing him back--Nat, I need those levels!”   
  
“We’re steady,” she states, “everything looks perfect. One slightly-younger Steve, coming right up!”

The device lights up, and Steve appears, a glowing silhouette which shrinks down until it’s seated on the ground.

“Bruce?” Bucky asks, drawing his name out for several seconds.    
  
“Oh no,” Scott says, matter-of-fact.    
  
“What the fuck?” Sam and Natasha blurt out simultaneously. 

Tiny, towheaded Steve looks up at his friends from where he is seated on the ground in his itty-bitty Captain America tac suit and starts screaming. 

“I told you messing with moving time through people was a terrible idea!” Scott hustles around the tables and the van until he finds his cell phone. “I’m going to call Hank. He’s gotta be able to help.” He looks at the toddler, sitting where Steve had been standing moments ago. “Are we sure that’s Steve?”

Bucky cautiously approaches the shrieking Steve, whose fists are clenched tightly. His round little face is tilted toward the sky, howling. Bucky studies him from overhead. He sees the crease between Steve’s eyebrows, notes the mole on the side of his neck that has been there ever since Bucky can remember (and his memory is much better these days). “Seems to have the proper features.” 

Scott is already on the phone. “Right, and then he’s--a toddler, yeah. Should we just--? Oh, we shouldn’t. Hang on.” Scott holds his phone away from his head. “Bruce, shut it down. Hank doesn’t want you to do anything until he gets here. And I guess he’s very mad--at  _ me _ . For supplying the van machine. Sorry.”    
  
Sam is already walking up to Steve, kneeling down to his level. “Steve, hey Steve, it’s me. It’s Sam. You remember your best friend, right?” Steve fusses but quiets down, studying Sam’s face. “That’s right, buddy. We’re gonna fix this. Get you back in your right body. Or, I guess the body you wanted.” Steve gets the hint of a smile on his face. “Aw, look, Bucky. He’s pretty cute.” 

Bucky breathes out a laugh. “I’d watch it if I were you, Sam. He never took kindly to being called cute.”    
  
“But he’s so little!” Sam stares at little Steve, smitten, and keeps on babbling, “Who’s the most adorable baby? It’s Steve Rogers!”   
  
“You know, with the way time moved through him, he might have grown-Steve’s memories,” Bruce says, squinting over the top of his glasses. “And it’s unusual that his clothes shrank with him. Serum stuff, maybe. I need to make sure these notes are detailed for Hank to parse through.”   
  
“You think he recognizes all of us?” Nat wonders. “Sam, talk to him some more.” 

Sam shrugs and returns to cooing at baby Steve. If there’s one thing Sam loves--and he doesn’t talk about this often--it’s babies. His nieces aren’t so little anymore, but he spoiled them back then, and he still does now. “I’ve never seen natural hair this blonde in my life.” Sam scoots a little closer on the ground. “Hey baby Steve. Little Cap. You know me--can you say ‘Sammy’? How ‘bout ‘Sam’?”

Steve looks at him blankly, tipping his head. Then, he starts looking around. “Buh,” he muses to himself. “Buh?” Steve is becoming agitated, wiggling uncomfortably. His button nose wrinkles. “Buh?”

Bucky shuffles over and plops down onto the concrete next to little Steve. He very gently ruffles Steve’s hair, and Steve’s giggle is loud. “Hi Stevie,” coos Bucky, sugar-sweet. “You having a rough day, pal?”

Stevie cranes his neck and looks up until he sees Bucky’s face. “Buck-buck!” squeals Stevie. He launches up on his wobbly legs and jumps full-force at Bucky, who catches him, sweeping him into his lap. 

Bucky turns a faint shade of pink. He carefully pats Steve’s back, and Steve makes little contented sounds. Bucky sighs. “Stevie. Oh, sweetheart, we’ll fix this. Don’t worry.” 

Stevie smiles and waves his arms around. He points toward the control panels for the time device. “Bwoos! Nat!” Natasha looks enchanted. Bruce gives a little wave, which Steve shyly returns. He looks up at Bucky, tiny face surprisingly stern. He takes a sighing breath and leans against Bucky’s chest. 

Bucky grimaces at the pull inside his chest. He never seems to stop feeling protective of Steve, but this ache is fiercer than normal. It might be more fierce than when he and Steve were small, together. He wraps his right arm around his toddler-sized best guy. 

“Is it permanent?” Natasha speaks up, ever the problem-solver. 

Scott answers. “Hank said he’s coming to fix this; my best guess is he  _ will _ fix it. But it’s going to be a couple of days. I guess we’re babysitting miniature Captain America until then.”

“So what are we gonna do with him?” Sam asks, sitting beside Bucky. “Do you know what he likes to eat? Like, was he sick when he was little like this? You think he’s gonna be fussy?” Sam leans in slowly, and Steve has his face partially obscured in Bucky’s jacket. “What’s your favorite animal?” Sam asks, soft and sweet, holding out his hand slowly. “Maybe I’ll buy the cutest little Captain a stuffie friend.” 

Stevie reaches out and grabs Sam’s index and middle fingers. “Sammy,” he whispers against Bucky’s chest.

“Did you hear that?” Bucky grins. “Maybe he likes you after all.” 

“Why wouldn’t he like me, Barnes? We’re best friends.” Sam smiles huge, showcasing the small gap between his front teeth. “You’ve known him forever. What do you think we can expect?”   
  
Bucky gives Sam a little shove. “We were in grade school when we met, dumb-dumb. I can tell you about 7-year-old Steve Rogers, but this? Steve’s ma had a couple of photographs. If we put him in a dress and a little bonnet, that’s the extent of my knowledge of baby Steven.” 

Natasha walks over. “We should probably get Steve inside. There’s always potential for prying eyes.” She reaches to grab him from Bucky, but Steve has fallen asleep, both hands fisted firmly in Bucky’s shirt. Natasha carefully attempts to extricate him, but Stevie whimpers. Bucky, fit as always, manages to stand up without disturbing the dozing baby. “James, can you manage him until we find some clothes and supplies?”

Bucky swallows hard, bites his lip as he gazes down at tiny Steve. “I...I think so.”   
  
“Bruce, Sam, you’re with me,” Natasha orders. “We’re going into town to the Buy Buy Baby. Special mission.”   
  
Scott is on the phone again. “Really? Oh man, Barton, you are really saving our asses here. I can’t thank you enough, I--hang on.” He addresses the crew of Avenging Auntie and Uncles. “I called Clint, so if there’s baby stuff we don’t know, he’s on-call to give advice. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t know what the hell we’re doing.” 

Bucky directs a glare at Scott.

“Oh,” he whispers. “Language. Sorry. Sorry.” He returns to his call as the others roll out.

  
  
  


Inside the compound, Bucky has Steve in the room they share. Trying to remember what little he knows about babies, he makes a little nest out of some sheets, manages to unzip Steve from his tiny Captain America tactical gear, wraps him in a small blanket, and lays him down. He ever-so-gently climbs up onto the bed next to Steve and watches him like a vulture.

Stevie’s tiny pink mouth opens in a yawn, and he shifts. He coos out a sad sound, and Bucky carefully lies down so they are eye-to-eye. Bucky’s mouth presses into a serious straight line. His left arm whirrs and clicks quietly. He knows it’s capable of the finest touches--he has certainly proven that in more private, adult situations with Steve. He remains guardedly optimistic that he can be soft enough for a Steve who is this small and helpless.

Bucky’s heart is still doing flip-flops. Stevie, his Stevie, in the bed they share, has light-blonde eyelashes fanned out against his pudgy pink cheeks, legs splayed out, relaxed except for one fisted hand. He's the toddler mirror-image of his adult self. If Bucky cradled Steve’s head in his hand, his fingers would easily wrap most of the way around. Steve’s hair has always been a silky blonde, but it’s almost white now, a finer texture than ever.  _ If Bucky and Steve were ever able to have a baby of their own, _  Bucky thinks, then shakes his head violently,  _ no, that’s not even what this is about.  _

“Buh,” squeaks Stevie, not opening his eyes, reaching a pudgy arm out.

“I’m right here, Stevie,” Bucky whispers. “You rest now.” Bucky falls asleep next to his tiny charge, listening habitually to Steve’s calm breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #IndulgeYoSelf2K19 continues--the year is 2023, Endgame stuff kinda happened, selectively. Steve wanted to de-age a little, and got de-aged a lot, so now everyone is Bringing Up Stevie; or, Three-plus Avengers and a Baby. In this chapter: Stevie gets mobile, gets dressed, gets cuter! Bucky has more feelings! Auntie Nat is the best! Sam! Wilson! Baby! Whisperer!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby Stevie is winning hearts and minds. Apparently, we all needed some cuteness with fluff and feelings in this post End**me world. 
> 
> _(And if it really matters to you, I was my own beta this chapter. All mistakes herein belong to me.)_

Bucky is in the kitchen, digging in the cupboard where the cleaning supplies are kept. He should have known that a mess was imminent, since Natasha hadn’t returned with diapers before he and Stevie took a nap. Now Bucky and Steve’s sheets were in the washer, hot water wash, warm water rinse, thank goodness they were the white sheets. Bucky had never been so excited to bleach laundry in his life, and he’d dealt with a lot of questionable stains over the years.  He rifles through the cupboard for some fabric freshener spray.

“There you go,” Bucky hears Scott saying. “All better!”

Somewhere in their living room, Steve giggles and babbles. 

Natasha comes up to Bucky. He’s found the spray and is shuffling toward the bedroom. She smirks at him gently. “Sorry we weren’t back sooner, James. Hadn’t even thought about Steve having an accident.”    
  
Bucky shrugs. “He’s a baby, Nat. Guess these things are bound to happen. But we’ve got diapers now.” 

“Is it weird?” Nat asks him, cocking her head toward the living room, where Steve is playing with the others. “This is weird, right?”   
  
“Yep. Pretty weird. It’s funny, y’know?” Bucky spritzes the stripped-down mattress with the fabric freshener. “I’ve fought Nazis with space tech. I’ve lost a game of poker to a raccoon. But I  _ never _ imagined my best friend turning into a baby.”

  
“Pretty sure he’s Sam’s best friend,” Natasha laughs. “He’s your boyfriend.” 

“We’re both like a hundred years old.  _ Boyfriend _ seems like a silly term.” 

“Partner, then?” she asks.

Bucky doesn’t get a chance to answer as Scott and Steve come into the room. “This little man certainly smells a lot better,” Scott beams, bouncing Steve on his hip. Steve is looking around, surveying his surroundings. “Somebody take a picture of me with him,” Scott insists. “I gotta send this to Hope. It’s the kind of thing she’ll say hurts her ovaries.” 

“Buh! Nat!” squeals Stevie, kicking his feet. He’s sporting a diaper covered in a pastel blue bunny design. 

Bucky moves to reach for Steve, but Nat cuts him off at the pass. “Uh-uh. My turn, tiger.” She hoists Steve from Scott’s arms. “Auntie Nat has plenty of practice,” she says. “Ooh, you’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” She boops Steve on the nose. Stevie smiles. “You’re going to like your bed, and your blankies, and your toys. Sam is really good at picking things out. You want to go see if Uncle Bruce has finished assembling your crib?” Steve gently grabs a handful of Natasha’s hair, waving it around, but doesn’t pull. “You’re very polite about that,” she observes. 

Natasha turns to Bucky, directing him with her eyes. “Follow me. We’re going to need an extra couple of hands to move this stuff from the hangar.” 

Bucky blinks. “You took the quinjet to the baby store?”

“Bruce wouldn’t fit in Sam’s Prius.” 

Stevie gives a shy wave to Bucky, opening and closing his hand, his head pillowed on Nat’s shoulder. He sticks his thumb in his mouth. Bucky begs his guts to stop melting. He should probably be more concerned for this littlest Steve, but mostly he feels love.    
  
  


In the quinjet hangar, Bruce has most of the parts of a crib put together. Sam is holding a mobile with stars, planets, and colorful rocket ships hanging down.

“How long is Cap gonna be Baby Cap?” Sam wonders aloud. 

“Last I checked,  _ you’re _ Cap now,” Bruce smiles, gentle and easy. He reaches big green fingers out to Sam. “Allen wrench?” 

“Nah, like, you think it’ll be weeks? Months? What if it can’t be fixed and now we gotta raise him or something?” He passes the wrench to Bruce, who uses it in a surprisingly dainty manner to screw the legs onto the bottom of the crib they’ve been building together. Bruce hums thoughtfully while he works, and Sam continues, “What do you suppose it’s like? One day you’re dreaming about marrying your former-assassin boyfriend, the next day you’re old enough to be his great-grandson.” 

“Watch it, Wilson, he’s coming this way.” Bruce continues working as though nothing had been said at all.

Bucky’s boots clomp loudly as he, Natasha, and Stevie enter the hangar. Natasha, always light on her feet, is near silent as she walks. Stevie looks everywhere, his blue eyes huge and curious. Natasha bounces him back and forth, his legs braced on either side of her hip.   
  
“Bwoos,” he breathes out, almost shy, watching Bruce at work.    
  
“See, Steve?” Natasha points to the pile of bags and the small selection of newly-assembled furniture. “We’re gonna build you a nice room! Are you excited?” She tries in vain to flatten the cowlick that sticks up from the back of Steve’s head, smoothing over it again and again. 

“Hey little man,” Sam waves at Steve, more than a little smitten. “How you doing now? Feel better after a nap?”   
  
Stevie’s voice ratchets up several decibels. “Sammy!” He starts to wiggle out of Natasha’s grip. She quickly scans the floor for sharp objects and loose bits of anything a baby could choke on, then puts Steve down on the concrete. He sits and wiggles his arms and legs, then a serious expression twists his face. He wiggles more deliberately this time.

“You gonna come over here? Gonna come see me?” Sam sits on the hangar floor, legs spread wide. He pats the concrete in front of him. “Come on, Stevie, I got you buddy.” 

“Done!” Bruce announces, holding Steve’s crib up with both hands. “Where’s it going?” 

“Just take it back to our--” Bucky pauses. “ _ The _ room. Quarters. You know.” 

Bruce carefully tucks the crib under one arm, gives a little salute, and picks up the mattress one-handed. “See you up there.” He and Natasha depart with a pile of baby things.

Steve is up on his feet. He’s not terribly steady, but he looks better balanced than Bucky had expected.

“Come on,” Sam keeps encouraging. “Come over here and see me!”

“Buh?” Stevie asks, looking up at Bucky.

“I don’t care, pal. He’s your friend. Do what you want,” Bucky grins. He opens, closes, opens his metal fist. He’s worried that Stevie is going to fall, hurt himself, step on something since he doesn’t have any shoes on his pudgy little feetsies.  _ Feetsies? Barnes, he’s practically your husband. Or. Well. He’s...whatever this is right now. Have some self-respect at least. _

Stevie gets a look on his face that is the softest version of  _ I Can Do This All Day _ that Bucky has ever seen--huge, fiery baby blues focused on the distance, stern expression despite his adorably chubby cheeks. “Sammy,” he says, very seriously, as if to warn Sam of an incoming danger. 

With that, Stevie launches himself across the floor in a full, stumbly toddler run straight into Sam’s arms. 

“Oh my god!” Sam cries out. “Did y’all just see that? The speed!” He lifts Steve up over his head, and Steve squeals with delight. Sam blows a raspberry on Steve’s belly button. “Baby Captain America is the fastest!” Stevie laughs loudly and hugs Sam around the neck. 

Bucky’s heart pounds. “Oh god,” he mutters.

“He’s mobile,” Natasha nods. “Come on, James, you should have been expecting this.” 

“I vaguely remember Sarah talking about how Steve learned to walk and talk about the same time,” Bucky replies, “but he was small and sickly. I thought he’d move slowly. But he’s serumed and a baby. That’s the thing, Nat--I don’t know what the hell to expect.” He runs a hand through his hair and exhales loudly. “Ah, shit.” 

Steve turns around from patty-caking with Sam and says something that sounds like, “Wah-way, Buh!”   


“Ha!” Sam looks like the cat that got the cream. “Pretty sure he’s trying to say ‘Language, Buck!’ As if you don’t say worse on a daily basis.”

Stevie giggles, and it’s music to Bucky’s ears. “Buck-buck.” He stands up and toddles circles around Sam, keeping one hand on him at all times. Then something catches Steve’s attention, and he’s off like a rocket to the other side of the hangar. 

Bucky hurries after him.  _ Oh, isn’t  _ this _ going to be a treat? _ He shakes his head. 

Stevie halts, gazes up at the wall in awe, then reaches both arms sky-high. He whimpers, then reaches again. He’s trying to grab the Captain America shield from where Sam racked it with other gear. While it was shoulder-height for grown Steve, it’s at least two feet out of reach now. Stevie lets out a sob, then starts to cry in earnest. 

“Jesus,” Bucky mutters under his breath, then plucks Stevie up from the ground. Big, fat tears are rolling down his rosy baby face. “Aw, little pal,” Bucky tries to soothe him, “you’re not big enough for that shield yet. You might get hurt.” Stevie wails, and Bucky gently shushes him. “Easy, now. Maybe you can try again tomorrow, Stevie. It’ll be okay.” Bucky turns his head and kisses Steve’s temple, secretly sniffing his hair. He doesn’t smell like Steve, the way Bucky thinks of him, but he does smell  _ nice _ . “C’mon, sweetheart, you wanna go see Sammy some more?”    
  
Stevie takes a stuttering breath then stills. “Sammy,” he says, a stubborn tone to his tiny voice. 

Bucky carries Steve back to where Sam is digging through the pile of shopping bags. “He’s trying to get your shield, Sam.” 

Sam just shakes his head. “I’ve been worried he’s gonna be trouble. I hope this doesn’t last long,” then he squawks out a laugh, startling Bucky. “Sorry, Barnes. Was just thinking that Steve has probably been trouble his whole life.”    
  
“Pretty much,” Bucky smirks. “We can’t expect that to be any different. Let’s get this stuff back to the room.” Stevie reaches over Bucky’s shoulder and squirms. “What is it now, wiggle worm?”   
  
“Sammy-sam!” Steve’s little hands make grabby motions.   
  
There’s a crinkling noise and the sound of an empty bag dropping to the floor. “Bucky, look at these.” 

Bucky turns and lets Steve down to stand between him and Sam. Sam is holding an armful of soft, plush animals. Stevie’s mouth drops open and his eyes light up. 

“That’s right,” Sam says to Steve. “They’re all for you.” Steve takes a hesitant step forward as Sam kneels down. “Look, buddy! Here’s an owl, and a puppy, and,” Sam takes a dramatic pause and gives a knowing, smart-ass grin to Bucky, “your very own Bucky Bear!” 

“I thought they stopped making those after the war,” Bucky grimaces.

“You ever been to a Build-a-Bear? They brought these back for your hundredth birthday, after you’d been cleared of charges.” 

“That’s like seven years ago when I lived in Wakanda,” Bucky replies.    
  
“Hey, they’re not cool anymore. You missed the years when every fifth kid in New York had one. Made me think about your sad raccoon-face every day.” Sam reaches out and gives Bucky a playful little shove. Stevie, meanwhile, is attempting to wrangle three full-sized stuffed animals in his short arms. He’s not succeeding. 

“No eagle? No  _ falcon _ ?” asks Bucky.

“Not exactly popular cute animals at the baby store. Owls are close enough. And they’re wise. And who doesn’t like puppies?” 

Bucky smiles softly as Stevie drops the puppy while trying to hug all three stuffies at once. Stevie picks the puppy up, then the owl falls from his other arm. He sighs and sits down, attempting to stack them up instead. Bucky notices that Steve is shivering when he tips his head all the way back and asks, “Buck-buck?”

Bucky scoops Stevie up with one arm, scoops all of Stevie’s new friends with the other. “You’re freezing. We need to put you in some clothes. C’mon, Wilson, let’s go get him set up.” 

“It’s gonna be so great, man,” Sam beams. “I got him this outer-space mobile, and he’s got cute blankets, and of course, a plastic set of keys. What baby doesn’t love a ring of plastic keys?”   
  
“I think most of our toys were wooden, growing up,” Bucky muses. “My little sister had this weiner dog on wheels that she’d insist on walking twice a day because that’s when Mr. Albertson from next door took his little dog out.” His eyes open wider, surprised at the flashback. “I had little toy cars, they were rubber, I think? Becca chewed on one of them and blamed it on her wooden dog.” 

“You get a lot of memories like that, Barnes?” Sam asks, gentle and curious. 

“Sometimes.” Bucky adjusts Steve’s body on his hip, and Steve takes a big handful of Bucky’s jacket sleeve, holding tight. “In Wakanda they fixed most of this,” he rapidly tilts his head back and forth to indicate his brain, “But it still surprises me. My therapist says it’s perfectly normal for adults to remember things from childhood when there’s a trigger.”   
  
“Yep,” Sam nods, lifting his arm to keep the half-dozen or so bags he’s carrying closer to his shoulder. “Anytime I smell sweet potato pie baking, I think about my grandma. Random sensory triggers are pretty standard stuff.”

“I don’t get a lot of chances to think of myself as  _ standard _ ,” Bucky smirks.

Stevie is babbling away as he, Bucky, and Sam reach the room. Bucky drops him unceremoniously onto the bed so he bounces, and he squeals and giggles. He starts crawling around in the pile of blankets while Sam looks through a bag of clothes. “Perfect!” Sam exclaims. Bucky turns to see Sam pulling the tags off an American flag onesie.

“Aw, come on, Sam. Give Steve a little dignity at least.” As if to protest Bucky’s defense, Stevie crawls to the corner of the bed closest to Sam, puts his arms up in the air, and grins. Bucky sighs, defeated. He’s conveniently distracted by his phone buzzing in his pocket. 

“Cap’n!” Stevie giggles as Sam yanks the onesie leg over one pale, pudgy foot. “Sammy Cap’n!”

“You wanna be my sidekick now, Steve Rogers?” Sam sing-songs. “We’ll get you a little helmet so you don’t bump your little noggin. And  _ definitely _ a parachute. Your parachute is gonna have a parachute.” 

Bucky smiles, despite himself.  _ If he and Steve ever have kids, Sam would be a great babysitter. _ He freezes, mid-thought, then remembers he’s trying to check his messages. 

 

**Nat:** Sorry to disappear. There’s a Flerken holding people hostage in a bodega.

 

**Bucky:** I hate cats.

 

**Nat:** No you don’t. Anyway, Scott and I have it covered. 

**Nat:** You going to be all right feeding him and such?

  
  
**Bucky:** Sam is a child whisperer. Did he pick out the flag onesie?

 

**Nat:** It was a group decision.

 

**Bucky:** I hate you.

 

**Nat:** No you don’t.

 

**Bucky:** No, I don’t. Be safe. Cat lady.

 

When Bucky looks up, Stevie is practicing his tiny Captain America pose in the center of the bed as Sam is circling the bedroom with his arms spread wide. 

“I’m comin’ in on your left, Cap!” Sam makes airplane noises despite the fact that his wings don’t make any airplane noises at all. “What’s our mission?”

“Buh!” Stevie screeches, pointing straight at Bucky with his impossibly small index finger. “BUH!”    
  
“You got it,” says Sam, and he grabs Stevie around the midsection, tucking him under one muscular arm, keeping the other outstretched in pretend flight. “Right. Let’s go save your man.” Sam asserts a play-serious look at Bucky. 

Bucky winks at Sam. “Help me,  _ Captains _ America!” He adds a forearm-to-forehead gesture for despairing impact, like damsels-in-distress once did in the serials of his and Steve’s youth. “I’m in trouble! Save me from...from…”  _ Don’t traumatize, him, Barnes, he’s just little. _ “This doorframe!” He raises his metal arm to the corner above his head. Bucky steps forward, pantomiming that he can’t pull his arm away. 

Stevie reaches out with both arms where he’s held firmly in place under Sam’s elbow. “Buh, Sammy!” 

Sam shakes his head, clucking his tongue. “I see that, Cap. AIM scientists must have trapped Bucky with that new vibranium electromagnet they’ve been testing. They knew we’d come for him. Good thing I left the shield in the hangar, or we’d be in trouble too!” Steve looks absolutely delighted. Bucky pretends to struggle some more, adding some  _ oofs _ and grunting to punctuate his imagined distress. Sam brings Stevie over to the door, holding him next to the lightswitch. “You gotta put in the code, Steve!” 

Steve reaches out, clicking the light on and off several times while Sam vocalizes various beeps and boops. 

“ _ Ba-DING _ ! You did it, kid! Thanks, partner.” Sam swings Steve around until he’s upright again. Steve turns his dauntingly huge blue eyes on Bucky, looking concerned.

“Buck-buck?” He tentatively stretches his arm and touches Bucky’s vibranium shoulder. His touch is softer than tender. 

Bucky massages his own wrist, as though the invisible shackles had been a real challenge. “Yeah, pal. I’m okay now.” 

“Yay!” Sam cheers, bouncing Stevie up and down, and Stevie claps his hands. 

Bucky scoffs in amusement. “You should host a show for preschoolers. You’re good at this.” 

Sam looks around, as if to make sure the coast is clear. “Barnes, between us, I  _ love  _ babies. Love them. It’s not really a secret, but you guys never met my nieces. They knew how to say ‘Uncle Sam’ before they could say ‘grandma’. My mom was not happy.” He draws a breath and blows it out.

Stevie coos and looks at Bucky again. He babbles something that sounds like a question, then has an expectant expression on his face. Bucky scrunches his face, puzzled.   
  
“What was that, Steve?” Sam gets that cheshire expression again, the one Bucky isn’t sure if he likes or detests. “Oh my. Well, consent is really important. That’s a lesson for you, kiddo.” 

Bucky blinks a few times. “Do you...do you  _ understand _ him now? What does he want?”   
  
Sam continues, ignoring Bucky’s confusion. “So let’s ask him, okay? You wanna ask?” Stevie hides his face against Sam’s shoulder. “You’re shy now? All right, I’ll help you.” Sam sighs, put-upon. “The Little Cap here wants to know if he could have a kiss for saving you.” 

Bucky feels his face get warm, but gets close to Sam anyway. Sam looks encouraging. Bucky tucks his hair behind his ear and leans in to gently kiss Stevie on the cheek. Stevie’s entire face is bright pink, and he tucks his head back into Sam when Bucky moves away. 

Sam catches Bucky’s wrist before he can step back. “Barnes,” he soothes, “he’s still your Steve. He loves you. You gotta show him that. And we’ll get him fixed.” 

“I hope so,” Bucky mutters, secretly grateful for Sam and his care. “He might not like your clothing choices after a while.” 

“Bucky, I am an excellent shopper.”    
  
“Buh,” nods Stevie, kicking his feet happily, stuffing part of his hand in his mouth. “Wuh-wuh?”

Bucky shakes his head, just to clear the cobwebs of cuteness. “You hungry, Stevie? You gotta be hungry. Big You eats constantly. Or at least drinks protein shakes constantly.” 

“Maybe we can get him to eat more vegetables. I keep telling you two that supplements all day aren’t the best way to get all your vitamins.” Sam nudges Bucky’s shoulder and is met with a sigh. “I know, I know. Nutrient density versus caloric intake of the supersoldier metabolism, blah blah blah…”

Bucky laughs out loud. “That’s true, but you should’ve seen what passed for vegetables in the Great Depression. Cabbage? Mostly boiled. When you say ‘spinach’, you’re probably thinking of some pretty green salad; we both picture some canned atrocity that we also had to boil.” Sam passes Steve into Bucky's arms. Stevie hugs Bucky tight around the neck in a grip that’s surprisingly strong for someone under the age of two. “Whaddaya want for dinner, pal? Sammy wants to feed you some kale. D’you like kale?” 

“Whoa, that’s a no,” Sam laughs, the sole witness to Steve’s expression as he looks back over Bucky's shoulder. “But we’re gonna have to ask him again later because you just missed the  _ best _ face. We’re gonna need a picture of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave squeeing and key-smashes in the comments section! I'm here for you! Next chapter: someone gets feisty. Here's a hint--tiny superheroes don't like naptime.
> 
> xo,  
> Dottie


	3. Bathtime Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do your teeth hurt? They might after reading this chapter. Also you'll probably catch a few feelings by the end. Bucky cleans up his baby best guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long-awaited update of cuteness! Thank you for sticking with my self-indulgent fluff. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, but I read it over like three times so it's not a mess.

Bucky turns on the tap and breathes deep. So far this has all been easy. Maybe too easy. He wonders when the other shoe is going to drop. He’d been trying to skim childcare tips on the internet while alone in the bathroom and stumbled on a Pinterest page with the cringe-inducing adage “Parenting is the toughest job you’ll ever love”. Bucky doesn’t want to admit he’s been parenting Stevie for the past 36 hours, because it’s the ultimate in cognitive dissonance to be _ parent _ to someone who was a _ partner  _ less than two days ago. Yet here he is, drawing a bath for the littlest love of his life.

 

Bucky plugs the tub and holds his flesh-and-blood hand under the water, testing the temperature. While big Steve liked showers at a temperature that would scald an ordinary human, chances like that shouldn’t be taken with Steve in baby form. Bucky also knew that babies had sensitive skin. That was a deep-rooted memory of getting first baths as a kid, because his sisters’ baths were cooler by default when he was done. He remembers Winnie lining them all up on bath days, and a small smile crosses his lips when he thinks of his mama’s soft hands helping him out of the tub. 

 

There’s a quiet whump of Stevie flopping onto his back on the bed, trying to peer into the  _ en suite _ door. “Buck-buck? Buuuhhh?”

 

“Just a minute, little pal. Then you’re gettin’ in the tub,” Bucky calls to the doorway. Something seems to be missing from this bath for Stevie. Bucky checks his supplies--baby shampoo, a soft washcloth in a cute froggy print, and a bottle of liquid soap billed as “soothing baby wash”, lavender-scented. He’s pretty sure back in the day they used Ivory soap. He sniffs the baby wash and thinks if it doesn’t soothe Steve, it might soothe _ him _ . Maybe that’s what the soap-makers meant, to soothe stressed baby-bathers.

 

Bucky spies the rubber duck with the Statue of Liberty crown on the decorative shelf. It had been a housewarming gift from Clint when Steve and Bucky settled in New York. “They were sold out of the Captain America ducks,” Clint had explained, “I chose the next best Sentinel of Liberty.” Bucky shakes his head at the memory and drops the duck into the tub, which now holds a couple inches of water.  Bucky turns off the taps.

 

Stevie is rolling around on the bed, awkwardly wrestling with his Bucky Bear. His hair is sticking up in three different directions, and his little face is flushed pink in the cheeks. He babbles, lets out a delighted little screech when the real Bucky sits next to him, and chews on Bucky Bear’s ear. 

 

Bucky smiles. “C’mon, punk. Time to put down your little friend. Bucky Bear is not a snack.” He takes the drool-eared bear from Steve’s hands. 

  
  
“Did you bite him hard? You know you’re not supposed to bite your pals.” He fixes Stevie with a playfully stern look, and Stevie looks a little panicked, his mouth dropping in a small  _ O. _ “No no, it’s okay! Tell you what--it’s nice to kiss it better, and tell him you’re sorry. Are you sorry, pal? Here.” He holds Bucky Bear within Steve’s reach. Stevie makes a sad sound and kisses Bucky Bear. 

 

Bucky swallows down the embarrassing squeak of cuteness he wants to make. Instead, he looks earnestly into Bucky Bear’s little masked eyes and says, “All better, Bucky Bear?” Then he makes Bucky Bear nod. “Should Stevie get in the bath now?” He makes Bucky Bear nod again, then holds him up to his ear. “What’s that? Oh, of course, I’ll tell him.” 

 

Stevie giggles and gently kicks his feet against the mattress. He looks up expectantly at Bucky.

 

“Bucky Bear said he loves you, and he’ll see you after your bath. You wanna go play in the water?” Bucky scoops up the small, smiley love of his life. 

 

“Buh!”

  
  
“Yeah, I even put a duckie in the water for you. How ‘bout that?” 

 

It’s tougher than Bucky imagined it would be to give Steve a bath. He wants to splash and play. He doesn’t want Bucky to dump water over his head, even when Bucky cradles his head in his vibranium hand, holding him at an angle so the water won’t get into his eyes. 

 

Stevie fusses and whines. 

 

Bucky inhales deeply, hoping this really is what the soothing wash is for. “Stevie, it’s okay. I would never hurt you. You know that. Just let me rinse your hair.”  The baby blonde pouts and whines some more. Bucky cannot believe the words about to come out of his mouth, but he says them anyway. “ _ Steven Grant Rogers _ , I know you’re little, but I know you know better. Just let me help you.” 

 

As Steve pauses like the words have had some kind of effect, Bucky quickly rinses Steve’s hair. Stevie grunts as though it’s a great effort to withstand this kind of treatment. 

 

“There. All done.” Bucky smiles wryly. If anyone ever asks, stubbornness was definitely born into Steve Rogers. 

 

Stevie grabs the rubber duck around its neck and splashes it into the bathwater. In turn, Bucky gets water all over his t-shirt and decides to peel it off. He lathers some of the lavender stuff into the froggie washcloth. “Okay, sweetheart, let’s finish getting you clean. Will you hold still for me?” 

 

Steve starts off still enough. He even seems to like it when Bucky scrubs him. Bucky tickles Steve’s sides, and Steve giggles loudly. He goes quiet while Bucky washes his back. But once he’s covered in soapy bubbles, he starts wiggling around again because he slips out of Bucky’s grip. Despite all the flailing and squealing, Bucky manages to get Stevie rinsed. 

 

“Gimme your hand,” Bucky instructs gently, and Steve reaches out without question. “We’re gonna make a whirlpool. You ready?” Using their hands together, Bucky pushes down on the lever for the bathtub stopper, and Stevie watches the water whirl away down the drain. This gives Bucky enough time to take a few breaths and shake out a soft, fresh towel. 

 

He lifts a happy Steve out of the tub, quickly wrapping him up and smacking some noisy kisses to the top of his damp head. Bucky sits down on top of the closed toilet, cradling Steve close.

 

“Buck-buck,” Stevie whispers, reaching out of his towel to pat Bucky’s bare chest with his pudgy little hand. 

 

“I know, buddy,” Bucky responds. “This is...strange, isn’t it? It’s not the usual way I take care of you.” 

 

Stevie babbles something quietly, looking into Bucky’s eyes.  His tiny face is so serious and sincere. The crease Steve sometimes gets between his eyebrows is there, on a much smaller and softer scale. 

 

“I miss you too, pal. I’m right here and so are you, but I miss you, you know?” Bucky purses his lips. “You’re gonna get better. Pym’s coming soon; he and Bruce can fix this. I’m sure. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.” Bucky chuckles, “Heh. Old. You win for once. I  _ am _ the old man in this relationship.” 

 

Stevie yawns and his long eyelashes fan out against his chubby cheeks. He sticks his thumb in his mouth and snuggles against Bucky. 

 

“Yeah, good idea, Stevie.” Bucky takes Steve into the bedroom, settling him on the bed while he finds a fresh diaper. By the time he’s turned around, Steve is asleep. Bucky gets his crib ready with Bucky Bear, a stuffed bunny, and the owl Sam bought. He checks the thermostat to make sure he’s chosen the right blankets. 

 

Bucky gently puts Steve into the crib, tucking a soft baby quilt around him. There are other blankets nearby if Stevie gets fussy and cold. Bucky’s not sure he’s going to be able to sleep, so he sets up a chair by the crib, ready to keep watch all night if necessary. 

 

Stevie stirs, reaching an arm out of the blanket burrito Bucky rolled him into. Bucky puts Bucky Bear’s paw into Steve’s hand, and Steve’s face goes slack and peaceful, his tiny fingers clamped onto his fuzzy friend.

 

Bucky feels tears prickle the corners of his eyes, and he’s not sure if they’re for sadness, for anger, or for being overwhelmed at how desperately he needs to care for every version of Steve he’s ever known. 

 

Bucky decides he doesn’t need to know the reasons right now. It’s late. He reaches into the crib and delicately rubs Steve’s back. “Sweet dreams, Stevie. I love you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want to comment but don't know what to say, kudos, key-smashes, and general squee are always appreciated. 
> 
> We're still not done, so stay tuned. 
> 
> xoxo,  
> Dottie

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave me some quality content in the comments and also, start imagining what cute stuffies Stevie will be carrying around in Chapter 2.
> 
> xo,  
> Dottie


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